


Upon A Tusk

by TalesOfOnyxBats



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional support animal, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Therapy Animal, mental health recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats
Summary: Azula has a therapy komodo rhino that helps keep her safe and cared for when she can’t do it herself.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	Upon A Tusk

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this post and the discussion to follow; https://bellatrixobsessed1.tumblr.com/post/628452824140955649/petition-to-give-azula-her-very-own-emotional

Azula draws her hood over her head. It has been a long while since she has been out and about, but everyone seems to think it will be good for her to get some fresh air. The longer she meanders around with a potent sense that she is out of place. 

She thinks of grabbing something to eat, but she doesn’t want to eat alone. It brightly highlights that no one really cares for her. That she isn’t the sort of person who is easy to get along with.

She considers shopping. But what would she buy? Nothing particularly interests her anymore and she has enough clothing. More clothing than she can probably wear in her lifetime. She could buy a gift but she has no one to buy it for, and even if she did, she wouldn’t know what they’d like. 

She clutches the reins and pulls her komodo rhino along. He stands close to her, towering over her. He is her only companion. The only creature that she feels any real connection to. At least she thinks that it is a connection, she isn’t entirely sure that she knows what that means anymore. 

Perhaps she should just let Akuma lead the way, he’d probably find a destination before she. He takes a few thundering steps before coming to a stop alongside her. People rush by, too many of them really, each seeming to have places to be. The ruckus they make is a soft and casual chaos; the sounds of everyday routines all unfolding in unison. There is the clanging of pots and pans, a choir of shouted sales pitches and attention drawing tactics, a street performer plucking at strings of a zither, the hiss and sizzle of fire, and a constent stream of chatter with varying ranges of emotion; cheerful and lively, angry and argumentative, and distressed. 

There are too many sounds. 

Too many sights. 

And maybe Azula would be able to bare it if she could tell which of the people passing her by are actually there and which of them are phantoms, if any at all. If she could tell which voices have bodies and which whisper in her ear for only her to hear.

She swallows and puts her focus on trying to blend in. To pretend like she feels as though she belongs. She looks around, deciding that she will buy herself a snack and make her way home. She takes a step forward only for a small body to collide with hers. The child stands up and rubs his rear before giggling and darting off. His mother offers her only a hasty apology before chasing after him. 

Azula takes a sharp breath before making her way towards the first food cart that she sees. “What kind of meat is that?”

The vendor turns to her, “it’s all komodo rhino.” 

Akuma makes a small grunting noise, she supposes that she doesn’t blame him for being offended. The vendor laughs, “I don’t normally say this, but…” he looks Akuma up and down. “Probably best to choose another stall.”

Azula only nods, she has learned not to force laughter, it usually just unsettles people. She leads Akuma to the next stall.

This one has various fruits both juicy and dried. She picks out her favorites and drops a few coins. She has made a mistake, a small one but a critical one. “This is…” the woman running the stall begins as she looks at the coin; a gold piece instead of a copper one. “Princess?”

Azula tenses.

“You are the princess!” She exclaims. Azula can’t tell if her voice is stroll with excitement or disgust.

Azula swallows And tightens her hold on Akuma’s harness. “Not so loud.” She hisses. She doesn’t particularly mean to be so harsh but stress leaves her edgy and short tempered.

The girl nods and Azula relaxes some. They don’t all hate her, she thinks that most people are indifferent to her presence at this point. But those who do feel strong animosity towards her usually pose a problem or several of them. And she is better equipped to handle them on some days instead of others.

She gives the girl another copper piece for her silence and tugs Akuma away from the stall, at last relaxed enough to eat her snack. She helps herself to a handful of dried banana slices as she wanders along.

The streets are somewhat bustling today, busier than usual and she recalls that it is a trade weekend. The harbors are stuffed and teeming with tradesmen, fishermen, salesmen, and people simply looking to buy and barter.

Once again she finds her anxiety rising. The Tribesfolk and the Earth Kingom folk are here. Where her own people are ambivalent of her at worst, the Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom people still harbor resentment.

Decidedly it is time to make her way back to the palace. Today is an anxious day, the sort where she doesn’t feel entirely confident about holding her own.

She makes her way towards the center of the market square. Akuma grunts as a small child collides with him. The child fall t they ground and immediately springs up laughing alongside his friends. Azula watches them dart off. 

The wind gusts through. She brings her hands to her hood too late to grasp it. Her fingers merely graze it as it falls back and away from her head. With agile fingers, she puts it back in place. It is only a minor form of damage control, the smallest illusion of safety. It does nothing to save her from the people that were already looking in her direction when the gust camd by. 

They have seen

They have noticed. 

And though it takes some time for the pieces to fall into place, they recognize. 

She knows that they have because a whisper ripples through the crowd and more heads turn to gawk. She is aware that she doesn’t get out much these days. She is aware that it leaves them all the more curious about her. 

Her stomach sinks, a nervous tickle builds within it. THere are people all around her, encircling her. So many faces. And it is too late to make a hasty escape. She swallows. 

“Princess Azula.” A man slowly drawls, drawing out the r. She recognizes him just as he has recognized her and she knows that she is in for a significantly harder time. The tickle in her tummy swells into a nauseating flutter. She supposes that it is an unhealthy dose of karma; she had humiliated the general during one of several war meetings, now he will return the favor.

“How was your trip to the asylum. I heard--real voices, of course--that you wren’t supposed to have been released so soon.” 

“I was cleared…” she begins only to be cut off by a second inquiry from a different man. 

“What’s wrong with you anyways?”

The general speaks again. “This is your third time, yes? You can’t hold yourself together for more than a month.”

“It was only the second.” She answers smoothly. Her voice is much sliker and calmer than she feels within and she is thankful for that, though she isn’t sure how much longer she can keep up the facade. 

“They ought to keep you in there.” The general comments. “People who see things that aren’t there...that sort of thing doesn’t belong in a place like this.” He gestures about. “A place of status and good repute.” 

“I assure you that I am fine.” She folds her arms. It is a lie. She is anxious and hurt, and sad and confused most of the time. “I’m not a danger to anyone, not unless a fight is picked.” She offers a warning glare. This is also a lie; she is a terrible danger to herself. 

The general gives a haughty sniff. “ They all say the same shit.” 

A woman next to him nods. “I guarded one of them asylums, the lunatics insist that they’re harmless and then the voices tell them to kill a man. Ain’t so harmless then.” 

And what can she say to that>? That her voices tell her that they love her and that she needs to change for the better? That it isn’t several voices, just one? One that she should hear outside of her own mind but doesn’t because the woman is no longer there. 

She never really was in the first place. 

Is she supposed to tell them that she doesn’t converse with things that aren’t there, not  _ anymore, _ that she has learned to distinguish what is real and what isn’t.

She could tell them that what goes on in her mind is nothing like they imagine. That she isn’t broken and foolish. That most of the people in that institution are perfectly rational and well functioning on most days. That most of them have simply been written off and abandoned over a one time mishap. A single lapse of the mind. 

That might have been good, a way to flush their own ignorance and stupidity in their faces. But instead she only mutters, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

A different person entirely laughs, “thank Agni for that, I’m not a freak.” 

Azula swallows again. Monster. Freak. They both mean the same thing. She is a monster. She knows it, everyone else knows it…

She leans into Akuma feeling abruptly tired. 

Everyone seems to have questions or remarks now and they are all asking them at once; some curious and innocent, others patronizing and mocking. 

“What's it like to be in an institution?”

“Are you medicated?”

  
  


“I heard that they use poppy. Are you on drugs?”

“What do the voices say?”

The general speaks up again, “she’s just crazy, look at her, do you expect a coherent answer?”

She must look tormented. She probably looks as overwhelmed as she feels. She finds herself sliding down Akuma and cupping her head in her hands. She is plenty aware that she isn’t helping her case. 

The general snickers, “she’s hearing the voices! She’s hallucinating right in front of us!”

“The only voice that I’m hearing is yours!” She manages one final biting remark. “And it makes me wish that I were listening to hallucinations instead.”

“But of course! You always have been dreadful with conversation, poorly socialized as any loon!”

There are several laughs.

Azula grips her head tiger and the crowd seems to close in. She is shaking lightly. THey have probably taken notice of this too. They probably feed off of it. She is making a perfect fool of herself. She is frustrated...enraged with herself for it. For letting them see her so weak. So verable. 

She feels a gentle nudge and Akuma scoops her up, nestling her perfectly and protectively upon his tusk and between his horns. She grips them like a lifeline. She supposes that they are lifelines in a way. They certainly work for crowd control. 

Akuma steps forward and gives a warning groan. The people take a synchronized step back. 

Azula nuzzles herself against his tusk and closes her eyes. She is drained. She rubs her cheek against the tusk. Most people back off on their own now, some with expressions of guilt. She loathes the ones of pity. 

One day they’ll look at her with respect again.

One day she’ll be strong again. 

Today isn't’ that day. 

Today she wraps her arms around Akuma’s tusk like a meek child and lets him do the fighting. 

She squeezes her eyes more tightly. He will take her home safely. He always does when this sort of thing happens. And it happens more often than she is comfortable with. The flutters in her belly intensify that much more. 

One day she will be confident again…

One day…

**.oOo.**

“Again? Zuko sighs upon her arrival. She drops down from Akuma’s tusk feeling dazed. His face softens and he helps her inside. Akuma tumps closely behind. Zuko knows better than to try to get him to stay outside. “I’ll be fine, Zuzu.” She mumbles quietly. “I’ll get used to it.” She better because they’re treatment of her won’t be changing anytime soon.

“You shouldn’t have to. They shouldn’t treat you like that. They shouldn’t say that kind of stuff.” He has heard it for himself, she has to give them props for having the guts to go at her even with Zuko around but then, they don’t really respect him as a leader either. According to the general public, the throne is weaker than it has ever been and it will be no matter which sibling wears the crown. But at least Zuko is sane and competent, that is more than she can say. 

She runs her hands through her hair. “They do it because I let them…” 

“Then grove ‘em the good ol sparky zap treatment!” Sokka declares. 

Azula mannages a light chuckle as she pulls herself back onto Akuma’s tusk. “My therapist told me that I should stop zapping things that cause me mild distress.” 

It is a joke but Zuko takes her hand and squeezes it. “You’ve never been that sort of person, even at your coldest. You never had to be violent…” he trails off. “You were intimidating enough with your voice.” He laughs.

Her expression dims. What is she now? She is nothing close to powerful and intimidating. Granted she is more approachable. She stares at the people around her. At her...friends? She still isn’t sure if she can call them that, but they don’t seem to hate her. They don’t seem to fear her. She isn’t sure if she is glad for this or distraught by it. 

“Even when you’re slipping you don’t really lash out.” Zuko concludes. 

She supposes that he is right. She is mostly able to keep herself in check. She mostly just retreats to her room to ride it out in privacy. “You and your band of morons are an exception.” 

“Clearly.” He rolls his eyes. 

There is a silene for a time. She nuzzles against Akuma’s tusk again. He groans affectionately and she rubs his broad and rough forehead. 

Zuko smiles at this; likely it is reassuring for him to see her connect with and show affection to another creature. It has certainly made it easier to to learn a thing or two about compassion and care. To learn what it is like to take care of someone else and to be taken care of. It is still a foreign concept, but a kind one no less.

“It seems like he’s helping you.” 

Azula nods, “very much, yes.” 

Akuma dips his head and allows Zuko to stroke it. “I’m glad that he’s doing his job. I was a little worried when you picked out a komodo dragon over the rabaroos, dogs, and cats.” 

“I think that Akuma suits me more, yes?” She is beginning to relax. To feel more like herself. 

“Definitely.” Toph remarks form across the room. 

Azula presses her lips together. “Thank you, Zuzu.” It feels awkward to say out loud. She feels as though she should be embarrassed to admit gratitude. “Fofr buying him for me, I mean. A therapy komodo rhino might be the only good idea you’ve come up with.”

“Just to be clear, I suggested a therapy dog or cat.” 

Azula shrugs. “In other words, even your good ideas are lackluster without my input?” 

He rolls his eyes again, “whatever you say, Azula.”

.oOo.

He finds his sister hours later, laying like an aardvark-sloth, belly and cheek pressed against Akuma’s tusk, arms and legs dangling off the sides. He laughs aloud, it is the least elegant thing he has seen of her in a long while. He thinks that it might be the most graceless thing he has seen in general; a lazily slumbering princess, cozy on very loudly snoring komodo rhino.

He snatches up a blanket and tosses it over her sleeping form. He pulls it up to her chin and gives her back a gentle rub. She stirs slightly but doesn’t awaken. She could use the rest, he supposes. 

He stretches his arms and lends himself against Akuma’s leg. He could use some rest for himself. 

He peers up at her. 

One day his sister will be herself again; one day she’ll have more friends and the pieces of her life back in order once more. 

Until then she has Akuma.

She will have him afterwards too. 


End file.
